


Even if the Body is Hollow//The Notes Ring True

by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)



Series: KHR Rare Pair Week 2018 [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Absent Characters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempt at Humor, Badass Gokudera Hayato, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, M/M, Morbid Humor, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, body disposal, i write salty soulmates, not your typical soulmate romance, what'd you expect out of bel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortescryche/pseuds/Adel%20Mortescryche
Summary: Bel's just minding his own business, out on a walk to scope out the Vongola Main House's security.The last thing he expected was to stumble across Gokudera Hayato in the process of digging a grave.





	Even if the Body is Hollow//The Notes Ring True

It’s an odd sight that Bel walks in on, when he’s out strolling at night. Possibly not as weird as it could have been, seeing as he’d taken the Vongola Decimo up on his _kind_ offer and decided to stay the night, after bringing a message in from the Boss. But definitely weird.

The fake-Decimo’s precious Storm brat was digging. In the gardens out back. Well, they were more like a mini-forest at this point, which was either good or bad when you started thinking about security but- Bel wouldn’t have been quite so surprised if he’d seen this happening at the Compound. See, the Compound had plenty of secret body drop sites hidden away through its grounds. And in the actual building, too.

…it probably made sense that the Vongola Estate had its own hideaways for dead bodies, but it was so strange to really think about it. The Boss’ old man did a pretty good job of acting like he was as pure as a baby’s freshly powdered bottom, so it was easy to think that the Estate wasn’t as drenched in blood as the rest of them. The Prince probably shouldn’t let himself be swayed by pretty pictures so easily, but he couldn’t help himself. The Estate had never been Varia Quality - it’s why they had the Varia at all. The cowards.

It didn’t take too much effort for Bel to get into the trees and stealthily climb over to where Smoking Bomb was digging. The body was just _sitting_ there, keeled over on the mud, and the brat was huffing with exertion, a clear sheen of sweat visible on his forehead and neck, the back of his shirt just beginning to get soaked through. He didn’t even notice Bel sneak up on him in the trees. Pathetic.

Then again, Bel _was_ royalty. And Varia Quality, to boot. It made sense if the brat couldn’t sense him.

“A nameless grave? Couldn’t you be more creative? Not that I’d expect any better from someone as plebian as you, ushishishishishi!”

Well, at least the brat was fast. Bel didn’t even finish talking before he had that skull shaped box weapon of the brat’s pointed straight at him. Not bad. Still too slow, Bel could have ripped him to shreds a dozen times over by now, but it was nighttime and the brat was in what should be a safe space for him. The Prince _could_ be lenient. Sometimes.

They stared each other down for a long second before the brat grunted, and lowered his hand.

“Oh, it’s just you. Shut up and let me get done with this digging, will you, I need to be back at the Mansion before Juudaime notices I’m gone.”

With how often the Smoking Bomb showed up to wag his tail in a day, the Decimo’d probably missed him already. Bel hummed under his breath, his lips parting in a wide grin while he surveyed the brat with a sharp gaze from behind the cover of his fringe.

Interesting. The brat was being _cage-y._

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to digging. I’m nowhere near done get yet,” Gokudera bit out, and Bel just had to drop down into a lower branch for that, watching as Gokudera turned his attention back to the ground.

“It’s not like you actually need six feet. It’s on Vongola grounds too. The Prince certainly wouldn’t bother. That said,” Bel’s grin abruptly turned sharper, “The Prince wouldn’t bother with _unmarked graves_. So boring. There are so many better ways to dispose of waste.”

The other teen actually paused for a second at that, shovel buried partway in the dirt. Bel continued to watch him, waiting for a reaction. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the verbal - or possibly literal, one could never tell with the Smoking Bomb - explosion he’d been expecting.

Instead, it was a harsh laugh, and a nastily amused smile turned his way, before Gokudera just got back to work. Bel found himself blinking in actual surprise, his grin slipping just a bit, and for a split second, he was tempted to hop down and explore the matter at closer quarters. Gokudera spoke up before he could, though, so Bel paused to listen.

“While I might usually agree with you, this is probably the cleanest way to get rid of this one. And an unmarked grave is all this bastard deserves - I was nice enough to warn him away the last time his Famiglia attempted a hit on Juudaime. Not my problem if he didn’t take the warning to heart.”

Bel blinked some more, and gave a snort of laughter, unable to contain it. Now here was a familiar reaction - the shark was just as prickly about anyone messing with the Boss. Or trying to, anyway. Not much could get past the Varia inner circle. And the little that did could rarely even ruffle the feathers in the Boss’ hair. So anyone trying, and inevitably failing, was worth a good laugh on all their parts, the shark included. But the rare instances on which anyone got closer than expected, oh, those were the times Squalo laughed the loudest and also got the prickliest about in the aftermath.

You’d think that would be a Rain characteristic, but no, it looked like it was just a Right Hand characteristic.

“I’m surprised the idiot’s still in one piece, ushishishishishi!” Bel declared cheerfully, settling in on his branch. Because this was _fun._ Who knew his survey of the Vongola Estate’s security would end in something as interesting as _this._ The brat had mostly seemed like a joke, with the squalling and the tail wagging, but this version felt more like a person worth talking to. At least until he went back to the puppy-ish behavior, anyway. The Prince couldn’t be fooled so easily - the slobbering was no façade.

But apparently, neither was this.

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t use any of my dynamite on this one. Didn’t feel like it was worth wasting my munition on him. I mean, sure, there’s some shrapnel bombs that I got a hold of recently that could have been fun, but those things are a pain to clean up after, or hide, and Juudaime’s better off not knowing about this. He’s never happy when the baseball idiot and I clean up after the assholes sniffing around the Estate, trying to lay a hand on him.”

Bel swung his legs while thinking it over, finally humming thoughtfully, shooting another wide grin at Gokudera’s downturned head.

“But that would have ended in lots of small bits! Which is where your dynamite would have ended up too. That too hard to clean up after for you?”

“Nah, the Estate has enough dogs to feed, I could have handled it without anyone being the wiser. But it didn’t end in little bits and I’m in no mood to try and saw him down to size, so-”

Bel couldn’t help it. He actually cackled out loud, nearly tumbling right off of his branch. Gokudera frowned up at him, obviously confused, but Bel just waved the expression away. There were times even a Prince could be caught off guard, and this was one of them.

So the fake-Decimo’s guardians could be ruthless when necessary too! He vaguely remembered this one earning his Smoking Bomb nom-de-guerre because of Ballistics expertise, having a short fuse and also insisting on using only bombs in his hits. Inconvenient, but it looked like he could handle himself in a fight without his bombs too. Another careful glance at the body made it obvious that the neck was twisted in an odd angle - _fascinating._ Took the assassin’s attack that personally, did he.

Well. It _was_ a hit on his precious ‘Juudaime’. If anything could trip past the otherwise puppy-ish teen’s morality barriers, that would probably be it.

“Need any help?” Bel found himself offering, in spite of himself. The Prince rarely felt the urge to be companionable, but he could consider giving a fellow Storm a hand on a late night. Especially when he’d already been so entertaining.

Gokudera shot him a strange look, looking like he couldn’t believe his ears, but he abruptly snorted and straightened, leaning his weight on the shovel still stuck in the ground.

“Sure, why the hell not. Knock yourself out.”

Bel beamed at him, and hopped out of his tree, nimbly landing in a crouch, standing up right after. He impatiently waved his hand for the shovel when Gokudera just continued to stare at him strangely.

“C’mon, hand it over, we don’t have all night,” Bel said, and the brat blinked, wordlessly pushing the handle in Bel’s direction before shuffling backwards, digging through his pockets.

Bel pushed his sleeves back before getting to work, noting the flick and click of a lighter behind him. Ah. That was more in character. The Smoking Bomb, digging unmarked graves and not even sparing any breath for a smoke? He’d have accused the brat of being a pod person if he didn’t want to avoid a louder explosion. Sure, it’d be funny, but it would also be a waste of time and would get him in bed late. And would probably draw disappointed looks from _both_ Sawada and Lussuria-nee.

So, instead, Bel just focused on the digging he’d offered to do, enjoying the companionable silence he’d found himself in. Bel didn’t always volunteer to do busy work, it was a mix of boring and tiring, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the stamina for it. Strength training in the Varia had ensured that he had the muscle for mundane physical activity. The smell of nicotine in the night air was oddly relaxing. The smell reminded him of the Compound – there were enough kids there that everyone mixed their vices at some point or the other. Whether or not Lussuria-nee approved.

“…so. Any particular reason you were wandering about at night like a creep?”

Bel laughed at the question, and shot a grin over his shoulder at the other teen. Gokudera was leaning against a tree, slouching with his arms crossed and face tilted sullenly at the ground, his cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Bel might almost have believed the image that slouch was painting if it weren’t for the fact that Gokudera’s light green eyes were as sharp as shards of glass in his head, focused straight on Bel’s back, regardless of how he’d arranged himself to look. It wasn’t the bombs that were Sawada’s Right Hand’s most dangerous weapon, after all.

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted some air?” Bel replied, coy.

Gokudera snorted, his eyes glinting in mild amusement. Bel shrugged, turning back around.

“I thought not. Don’t worry your big head over it, Smoking Bomb, I wasn’t up to anything nefarious. Just bored.”

He didn’t get any response to that, Gokudera still clearly suspicious, but Bel paid him no mind. It probably made him a better Right Hand if he was paranoid, anyway, and for all that Sawada was a bleeding heart and a pathetic choice compared to the Boss, he _was_ still Decimo.

They remained silent until Gokudera ran through some more cigarettes before finally stepping forward.

“Okay, think you’ve managed another half foot, let me take over again.”

“Sure. I can dig some more, I’m no weakling, ushishishishi! But if you want to switch, I can do that too.”

“Somehow, that sounds a lot less innocent than the actual words you just sai-” Gokudera broke off with a sudden choking sound that had Bel immediately tightening one hand on the shovel, the other automatically reaching for his knives.

He couldn’t sense anything untoward around them, though. The bugs were buzzing as usual, the breeze rustling through the leaves the exact same it had been a moment ago. The soft hoot of an owl somewhere near by sounded off, and no, nothing and no one dangerous anywhere near them.

When Bel turned back to the other teen, eyes narrowed behind his fringe, it was to find him staring at Bel’s forearms, a little paler than he’d been before.

Taking in what the Smoking Bomb had been staring at, Bel wasn’t sure if he should be defensive or amused. The musical score scrolling up his right arm is something that’s part and parcel of him, much like anyone else’s soulmark would be. The stare makes him want to ask if Gokudera had never seen a soulmark before. Or if he’d somehow assumed that Bel _wouldn’t have one,_ like some of the slower Varia recruits had done before he’d taken them to task. After that the whispers only increased, but the reasoning behind them was different. He was fine being called inhuman and soulless, but only if that went hand in hand with his prowess with his blades. Or at murdering people.

Bel knew what he was good at, okay. He didn’t have to be humble about it.

“Yay or nay, digging or no?” Bel asked abruptly, tempted to drag his sleeves back down, but no, that would make it obvious that the brat had made him _uncomfortable._

And they didn’t need that. They’d been having a nice night until Gokudera had started staring at his soulmark. There’d be hell to pay if he drew blood while spending the night at the Vongola Estate at the pleasure of the fake-Decimo. No matter how much he claimed that the ass deserved it, he wouldn’t be taken at his word. He never was.

“That’s… Für Elise, isn’t it.” Gokudera asked carefully.

“Why, I do believe that’s none of your business, Gokudera-kun!” Bel said cheerfully, his grin going toothy and sharp in a way that had everything to do with the instincts that were telling him to tear the other teen’s throat out at the jugular.

Oddly enough, his reaction didn’t even make Gokudera flinch. If anything, it made him calm down. Of course, when he lifted a hand, as though to reach out, Bel dropped the shovel, going for a knife anyway. Enemies didn’t just have to be the ones you couldn’t see. And at the moment, the Smoking Bomb was looking to be a bigger threat than any idle outsiders that might have found their way onto the Vongola Estate grounds.

To his credit, Gokudera paused in place immediately, hand going still. And then, strangely enough, he went for the medical tapes he had wrapped around his own neck instead. Bel’s eyes went narrower still, wary in spite of the blade in his hands. They hadn’t worked once before against this particular individual, after all.

And then, the tapes were carefully tugged out of the way and Bel abruptly understood _why_ Gokudera had reacted the way he had. The sight of the musical score on the Smoking Bomb’s bare skin made the breath catch in Bel’s throat. The Prince was a genius, he’d been trained in the classical arts even as a small child before he’d decided to slaughter his unworthy family, and reading music was an art that came easily to him, even after all the years that lay between him the musical lessons of his youth. But he suspected he’d have recognized the score written across Gokudera’s neck even if he’d never trained in the arts.

“Moonlight Sonata,” Bel said, sotto voce, “Third Movement,” and Gokudera nodded, eyes not leaving his own.

Well. Of all things he thought he would bond over with his soulmate, fucking _Beethoven_ wasn’t it. He was supposed to be in the Mafia now, right. And Gokudera was a _plebian._ Beethoven?

“My mother was a pianist,” Gokudera said, voice quiet. Maybe a little blank.

“Ah. I studied music, as a child. I always did enjoy the more violent pieces.” Bel responded, feeling a little blank himself. He’d just been out on a walk. The fake-Decimo’s Right Hand was supposed to be a momentary diversion before Bel got back to checking out the security so he could report back to the Boss when he headed back to the Compound. What the hell.

What the _hell._

“Back to digging?” Gokudera offered, the suggestion cutting through the awkward silence that had fallen.

“Yes. Please.” Bel grunted, even if princes didn’t _grunt,_ and stepped back, letting Gokudera step forward to pick up the shovel.

They remained in silence for the rest of the chore, trading off whenever one of them decided they’d had enough of the digging. The corpse continued to lay keeled over pathetically on its side, smelling worse the longer they left it to lie there. Bel wondered out loud if they shouldn’t cut it up anyway, may be hide the bits across the grounds, but Gokudera rolled his eyes and insisted that it wasn’t worth that much effort.

So Bel let it be. They had enough to think about between themselves, anyway.

Soulmarks always were a touchy topic. No one really knew how to address the issue, and if by chance you _did_ wind up meeting the person on the other side of your mark, how were you supposed to know if they were a romantic prospect? Whether or not they were an enemy instead? What happened when it turned out the mate to your soul was a family member, or somehow turned out to be something that wasn’t human at all.

The mate to _Bel’s_ mark, cotton tapes still loose around his neck, had gone from distantly amused to plain distant in the time it took for them dig a hole deep enough that the man could be dropped in with little chances of him being unearthed. By the time they were done refilling the hole with mud, the sky as beginning to lighten, they were both sweaty, grimy and in no mood to continue talking about what they’d discovered over the course of the night.

They barely glanced at each other while making their way back to the mansion, though Bel couldn’t help the glances he kept darting at the score still starkly visible against Gokudera’s pale skin. A passing thought about just how far the mark went down occurred to Bel, if only because he knew the score on his arm went all the way up till his shoulder. He still remembered the medical tapes that Gokudera had all but covered himself in on the day of the battle for the storm ring.  

They’d only just reached the end of the path they’d been following, still under the cover of the trees with the mansion looming in the distance, when Gokudera suddenly stopped in place. When he turned around, his expression looked set, as if he’d steeled himself to do something. Bel came to a stop a few steps behind him, smile pasted in place almost in self-defense.

“You wanna-?”

“I want to _what,_ brat.” Bel bit out, lips twitching wider, and Gokudera had the gall to roll his eyes, taking a step closer. Bel nearly took a step back in reflex and hated himself just a little for it. The reflex seemed like it would have been a good one to follow when Gokudera reached out with an open hand again.

“Hey, look, no bombs,” he said when Bel went for his knives again, voice dry, even wriggling his fingers as if to demonstrate the statement.

“I can see that, thank you,” Bel threw at him as a rejoinder, still trying to figure out whether leaping away would make a coward of him or not, when Gokudera’s fingers carefully pressed up against the line of Bel’s jaw. The sensation made his throat lock up in surprise.

Gokudera’s pale gaze was as wary as ever, in the half light of dawn, but somehow it was also _curious,_ and oh. That was somehow unexpected, even after a night filled with so many other unexpected events.

“You wanna?” he repeated, awkward, and Bel found himself tilting his face into the silken-yet-rough touch of the bomber’s fingertips.

The way Gokudera’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed was a revelation in itself, as was the movement of the thin black lines against his skin.

“Okay,” he muttered, taking another careful step forward, licking his lips nervously even while Bel reached out to tangle his fingers in the loose tapes around Gokudera’s throat, gently tugging him closer. “Okay then.”

The careful press of the other teen’s mouth against his didn’t capture his attention as much as the raw sensation that sparked through his fingers when they glanced against the score on Gokudera’s skin. It earned him a dry, choked sound against his lips, and the next thing he knew, there was a hand grappling against his right forearm, tugging roughly at his sleeve. He couldn’t even find it in himself to protest, not when his left hand was _aching_ , the pull of it throbbing in time with the heartbeat ringing in his ears. Bel’s mouth opened on a deep groan when Gokudera’s fingers finally reached the score written on his arm, allowing himself to be walked backwards into a tree only because it felt like his limbs were bleeding molten gold.

By the time Gokudera actually pulled away, they were both panting for breath, lips swollen and wet, and skin aching over their marks.

“Holy Shit,” Gokudera breathed, leaning heavily against him.

“Shut the fuck up and get back here,” Bel complained, hand tightening on Gokudera’s nape and reeling him back in. The teen complied with a surprised laugh.

“We should probably talk about this, at some point,” Gokudera commented, much later, once they were actually back at the mansion and safely behind closed doors in the Main Famiglia’s wing.

“Probably,” Bel agreed, the making out they’d indulged in having cleared the awkwardness to some extent, but not enough that it had made the situation seem any more normal than it had been, before. “Maybe run some missions with me? You’re clearly less squeamish than the Prince thought you were, before.”

“Hey, I’m plenty squeamish,” Gokudera warned, a grin tugging at his freshly reddened mouth, “Especially if you planning on trying any really messy methods to dispose of ‘waste’, as you put it. But hell, why not.”

Apparently sexual congress left the bomber calmer, loose-limbed and more open-minded. Not something he’d expected, that. Even with the well-known knowledge that Gokudera Hayato had gotten around quite a bit in his earlier teenage days. Bel gave a grin of his own, carefully turning the thought over in his head. They’d have to _talk_ about this with their Bosses, wouldn’t they; Bel would definitely have to. If not with the Boss, then at least with Squalo, to head the discussion off at the pass because it _would_ come up the next time he had to hand in a report about how his missions had gone. And who the fuck knew how Sawada dealt with missions amongst his Guardians. Maybe they got together to chat over tea and crumpets, the bleeding hearts that they were.

The Cloud excluded, of course. That one would probably be just as home amongst the Varia, and Bel didn’t hand out compliments like that lightly.

“Missions it is, then. Maybe I’ll mention it to Sawada in the morning,” he offered pleasantly, not planning to do anything of the sort until he actually spoke to the Boss about it. It did lend an amusingly horrified slant to the expression on Gokudera’s face at least.

Bel leaned in to taste the slackened line of Gokudera’s lips, laughing just a bit when Gokudera didn’t even hesitate to tug him closer.

Yes, this _would_ be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Hope you enjoyed this piece. It's an unexpected ship for me, I've literally never considered writing it before, but I found the idea interesting enough that I just _had_ to attempt it.
> 
> That's what this event is for, I guess. Experimenting with ships. *grins*
> 
>  **Kudos and Comments are very welcome** \- I'd love to hear what you have to say on these two! DId I manage to characterize Bel well enough? How about Hayato? This is a slightly darker side to him than I usually explore. Definitely interesting, though.
> 
> \---
> 
> For anyone interested, the next new AO3 post from me will be: Day Two's submission for KHR Rare Pair Week.
> 
> You can find me **[@adelmortescryche](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com)** \- come by and say hi! I don't bite.


End file.
